


Constructive

by Anonymous



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: (past) suicide attempt, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anxiety, College Student Armin Arlert, Depression, M/M, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Texting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-17 08:56:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29963979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Armin is a twenty-year old student who doesn't do much with his life. His weekends are spent alone in his bedroom, wallowing in his own self-pity while others go about enjoying what they have. Struggling with what seems to be a multitude of mental health issues, he feels that there is truly no solution.That is until he makes once decision that ultimately changes his life around.
Relationships: (Past) Armin Arlert/Bertolt Hoover, Armin Arlert/Jean Kirstein
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17
Collections: Fanfic Anonymous





	Constructive

Armin wakes to the sound of his alarm at approximately six in the morning. It's early, possibly too early for his liking, but he forcibly drags himself out of bed to quiet the loud ringing resonating within the room. It wasn't a pleasant noise, but there was no one else home to wake him. Especially now that his grandfather was away at the hospital

He sighs, rubbing the disgusting gunk in his eyes as he struggles to find his glasses. He could've sworn he had left them on the nightstand…

Lately these days the medication he had been taking seemed to have an affect on his memory. It did a good job in terms of making him feel mellowed out, so he wouldn't have to deal with the dreadful feeling of anxiety... but the forgetfulness was something that really got to him. In a way, he felt stupid. Helpless, even. As if that wasn't another thing to make him hate himself a little more.

After minutes of searching he discovers his usual pair of glasses had somehow landed in his school bag. Strange, he had absolutely no recollection of putting them there. Perhaps it was a better decision to discontinue taking these meds, it worsened his self-esteem with the stupid loss of memory. He'd have to bring the matter up to his therapist, next time he saw her. For now, he just wanted to get through the morning. He was going to miss the bus if he took any longer.

Eventually, after minutes of scrambling around his tiny little apartment, he'd managed to get himself near the bus stop, and... turns out he'd missed it.

"Fuck..." he says.

The next stop was about fifteen minutes away, he didn't have the time to wait that long. If he were to come in late to his classes... he would feel both embarrassed and ashamed. Walking in late would mean having the student's attention directed towards him for the few minutes he had to explain his late arrival. He didn't want that. It was already hard enough being seated in front of the classroom for him to see better, it was nearly impossible to avoid being looked at. But this... it was even worse.

There was a decision he had to make: being late to class and having to put up with a few moments of humiliation, or staying home while completely missing out on a lecture with the avoidance of that humiliation.

He settles for the second option.

After bitterly removing his beat up sneakers, he pulls his cell-phone out from his school bag, scrolling through a list of contacts until he reaches Mikasa's number. He shoots her a message.

 **Me:** _Sorry to bother you, something came up earlier and I was not able to attend class. Would you mind sending me a copy of your notes at the end of the day? I could really use them. Again, sorry for the inconvenience._

Armin lets out a dejected sigh after the message had gone through. He was lucky to have Mikasa, they had known each other for the longest time, ever since they were little. She was smart, attentive, and did nearly just as well as him in her studies. She was reliable enough, and cared for Armin in the way a sister would for her bother.

Unfortunately, being absent from class left him with plenty of time to kill. He didn't like this. Being in class somewhat felt like a distraction. He didn't have to put up with all the depressing and self-loathing thoughts that would wonder around in his head. But this was his decision. He knew what the consequences would be yet allowed his anxiety to get the better of him. He'd have to push through that say such an incident were to ever repeat itself. After a while, Armin comes to the realization that he's hungry with the loud grumbling of his stomach. He usually skips out on breakfast, in an attempt to preserve some time, but while he was here he figured it'd be alright to eat something.

Opening the fridge led to an immediate feeling of disappointment. There really wasn't much in it, just a carton of milk and a pitcher of water. There were some fruit slices pushed to the back, but they looked as if they were days old. Picking up the slices, he decides not to chance it after some further investigation had led to the discovery of small brown spots littering what could have been a potential breakfast.

He throws it away, into the disposal bin that looks like it should have been emptied days ago. It was practically filled to the brim. For him to take a few minutes to rid of all that trash seemed like such a bother. The amount of garbage a single person could produce like this seemed almost unbelievable

Armin eventually decides to skip out on breakfast. He didn't have many options to begin with anyway.

The rest of Armin's day is uneventful, with him spending most of it under his bed sheets watching silly videos he had found on YouTube. People there seemed so happy, he subconsciously wished to be more like them.

After the repetition of watching YouTube videos got boring, Armin decides to tune in his focus to something else. Some music to lift his mood a bit. Surely this could be therapeutic if he were to find just the right thing to listen to... 

But somehow, he ends up finding a playlist of songs that seemed all too familiar to him. Songs he had listened to during the lowest point of his life. Somehow, the music seemed even sadder now that he had unpleasant memories he could associate them with. There was the death of his parents, the loss of most of his friends, and the relationship he had that was so short-lived. The lyrics seemed heartbreaking, enough to bring tears to his eyes.

By the time the playlist came to an end, he could feel himself drifting into a slumber. Rest didn't necessarily bring him pleasure, but it was much more preferable in opposed to putting up with a negative flashback of unfortunate events. He was certain such a slumber wouldn't take him for too long... eventually he'd have to get at least one thing done. Surely it would happen

Or so one would think. By the time he wakes, it's seven in the evening, with the sun beginning to set. 

_Shit_ , that wasn't supposed to happen.

He reaches for his phone only to discover that the battery had died, which is just his luck. While waiting for his phone to reach a percentage that'd make it usable, he decides to go for a much needed shower. It had been a while since he'd last taken one, possibly four days now. 

He walks into his bathroom, locking the door behind him before stripping down. He tries not to look at his reflection in the mirror, out of fear that such an action would curse him. But there were no monsters or demons, just Armin Arlert. Just himself.

The warm water running against his body felt nice. So nice that he thinks he should do this more often, if only showering didn't seem like such an energy drainer! He scrubs himself clean, and for a moment considers washing his hair. It'd been a little over a week since he had last done so. But the exhaustion that would presumably follow him after doing so made him consider otherwise. Perhaps on another day would he decide to follow the simple task of keeping basic hygiene. For now, it was simply too much work.

After stepping out of the shower, Armin attempts to pass a brush through his greasy, matted hair. It was getting long now, nearly reaching his shoulders. With his hair in this state, he really didn't look his age. It made him seem older than what he actually was, and that was meant in the worst way possible. It took him several minutes to detangle the painful knots he had in the bush on his head. It hurt more than it should have.

Dressing himself came next. He didn't own much clothing, a lot of his outfits were things his parents had bought for him before their passing. This was five years ago. To think that he hadn't purchased a single new item for his wardrobe since then seemed... pathetic, incredibly so. But it wasn't much of a necessity to buy new clothes when you didn't have anyone to dress for. He almost always wore the same thing every day. A sweater in navy blue with a pair of black trousers, so sad. His tee-shirts were practically new considering his self-destructive habit that prevented him from wearing them. To have his arms exposed like that was far too shameful... the scars were nowhere near faded. Some were still pink, others white. They were scattered everywhere on his arms, stopping about two inches away from his wrists.

He tries to push away the usual feeling of self-hatred as he picks up a dirty pair of sweatpants and a worn out hoodie that had been laying on the floor. His usual outfit would be saved for tomorrow, as it usually was.

By the time he had finished taking care of what needed to be done, his phone had shown him the battery was at forty percent charged. There's a message waiting for him, it was probably from Mikasa. No one else had much of a reason or need to contact him, unless they were seeking answers for homework. And to Armin's reluctance, answers were usually given. He really didn't want to put up with any more insults, so the best thing to do was to comply.

Turns out the message hadn't been from Mikasa, but from someone he'd least expected to reach out to him. Armin nearly does a double take when the contact above the message had read _Bertholdt Hoover_. There was absolutely no way this was happening, the last time they had spoken to each other was nearly three years ago after their relationship had ended. Perhaps it was the medications he'd been taking, Armin once read that they may at times cause hallucinations. This could have been one of those moments.

But it turned out not to be, after he had read the contact name over and over.

 **Bertholdt:** _hello armin, i know it's been a while, but i was just wondering if you had a moment to spare. i'd really like to talk for a bit, if you don't mind._

Armin thought about it, ignoring the message. Because if he really wanted to, he could respond by saying that no, he did not have a moment to spare. But being the pushover he is, he somehow finds himself picking his phone up and typing out a response.

 **Me:** _Hello, it really has been a while, hasn't it? I hope you are doing well. I am free for a bit, so we can talk now if you'd like._

He had rewritten such a simple message a total of three times. It really wasn't that hard, just to talk for a bit. But there was always the lingering thought of: _why did he leave me in the first place? Why did everyone leave me?_

Somewhere deep inside, Armin knew the real reason behind that. It was because he was so gloomy, it seemed almost impossible to get along with him. Almost nothing brought him joy.

After a while, people began to avoid him. Especially with the occasional breakdowns he'd have, and all the times he'd been seen crying somewhere in a corner. Being alone seemed somewhat pleasurable in opposed to putting on an act. He couldn't keep up with it any more, and eventually, everyone grew tired of him and his little tantrums. None of them were equipped to deal with such an unstable person. Quite frankly, it was probably seen as a chore.

Everyone had left, all but Mikasa and her brother, Eren. But Armin could safely assume Eren only stuck around out of reluctance, because Mikasa encouraged him to. They really weren't that close anymore.

He really wished they hadn't left. Otherwise he wouldn't be in this current state. Wasn't his behavior justifiable? He'd lost his parents, of course this was... a natural reaction. It would have been nice to receive some support. Would it have been so hard to be a wee bit compassionate?

Talking to Bertholdt seemed painful, but he was lonely, and Armin knew this would be the only bit of communication he'd have for a while. He didn't have many options.

Armin used to think the two had been quite the match. They had a lot of similarities. They listened to the same genre of music, watched the same programs... and they both shared the same set of issues. Or, similar ones…

Perhaps it was sad to admit this, but they were both depressed. Armin's scale of depression however, was probably more on the severe side.

But maybe after all, the breakup was for the best. It wasn't a good idea to have two miserable people constantly dragging each other down…

Bertholdt doesn't respond after this, not for a while. Armin tries his best not to overthink about the situation. 

Why hadn't he responded? Was this some kind of prank? Was he to hear some terrible news?

He couldn't stop the thoughts from pouring in. It was annoying, really. Having to put up with them like this.

But eventually, after a few hours, his phone chimes once more, interrupting the chain of negative thoughts and assumptions.

 **Bertholdt:** _is it alright if we talk about it tomorrow? i'm feeling rather tired, and i know it's beginning to get late now... i don't want to come off as bothersome for keeping you up any later than you should be._

Right. He could work with this. Having to wait another day to hear what his ex had to say. Maybe it was better that way, he didn't have to end his night with a message that could possibly cause his mood to plummet even more. Yes, this was fine. This was better than what was anticipated.

 **Me:** _Alright, I'll talk to you tomorrow. Good nigh_ t.

Armin tries his hardest not to overthink about their brief exchange. It really wasn't worth being so anxious over. He briefly considers blocking the number, there was no real reason to still be in contact with each other.

He wonders why he hadn't done so three years ago, it was a stupid decision on his end.

Oh well, no point in thinking about it now. He shuts his phone off, placing it onto the small coffee table he had in the lounging room before heading off to bed.

His bed sheets were cold, after not being used for a few hours. It takes some time for his body to warm up the usual space he occupied as he attempts to make himself comfortable under his sheets.

Eventually, sleep takes him.

Armin disappointingly wakes at around seven in the morning. It was rather early for his liking, considering he had no reason to be up at this hour when it was the weekend. Sleeping in for a little longer would have been preferable, he wouldn't have to deal with his usual set of depressive thoughts

Almost immediately he remembers the short exchange he had had the previous night. Right, he was expecting a response later today.

He gets up from bed, pulling the disheveled sheets away from his body. He was tired, despite his usual eight hours of rest. It wasn't a good feeling, there was never a moment where he didn't feel as if he was on the brink of collapsing from exhaustion. Perhaps it was his depression that seemed to be the cause of such a feeling... Oh well.

He looks at the time on his phone, scanning for any new notifications. He hadn't any. Not even Mikasa had responded to his request. Strange, she usually doesn't take long to reply. 

Armin tries to be rational about this. Perhaps her phone had died and she didn't get the chance to read his message. No, that's not a possibility. She needed her phone, she probably would have charged it at some point.

Maybe she was just busy... no, for the entire day? Wouldn't she have had a moment to spare to respond to his message? He was rather upset at her negligence to respond.

Ah, there he goes again. Overthinking, the usual. He sets his phone to _do not disturb_ , so he wouldn't have to deal with the anticipation any longer. He'd check it back again in a few hours. For now, he just needed to start his day.

He brushed his teeth, drank some water, took his medications, and checked his emails before deciding to do anything else. He was expecting an email from the school. He didn't get one. Had they forgotten about him? Was his presence really that insignificant? He shuts his computer off, deciding he no longer wanted to deal with any more unnecessary thoughts.

So, his morning was off to a bad start. The only person he could really consider a friend had neglected to answer his text, and the school seemed to have not noticed his absence... that didn't do much for his already low self-esteem. What he needed was something to clear his head. Armin settles on going for a walk. It was still early, not too many people would be out at this hour. He didn't have to worry about publicly humiliating himself.

Other people made him feel anxious, especially strangers. He wasn't able to tell what they were thinking, and of course they would never share their opinions on him. Such trivial issues had no reason to make him feel the way he did, and yet... 

Enough. He's had enough now

He puts on his jacket, heading out of the apartment.

Immediately after stepping outside, a gust of wind hits Armin right in the face. He doesn't mind. Actually, the cold, bitter wind did something to temporarily ease his anxiety. The bitterness was something his mind could focus on in opposed to his usual thoughts that constantly brought him down. It was nice.

He walks around for a few miles, taking note of his surroundings. It felt nice to go out every so often, and especially when he knew he would be alone.

A while ago he'd developed a hobby of photographing the little things he'd see while walking. He pulls out his phone, capturing a shot of a stop sign. It wasn't much, and with the quality of his camera, his photos were considered more or less mediocre. But, that was fine. Some of them didn't look that bad.

Unfortunately, after the passing of his parents he really wasn't left with much money. He had mainly relied on his grandfather to take care of his financial needs, but with his failing health, Armin realized he had a very short amount of time to live leisurely. Eventually he was going to have to find some kind of job. What he would do, he wasn't certain of.

The thought of that makes him feel slightly upset. Armin didn't like being so dependent but wasn't sure how to take care of things on his own. Financial matters were stressful, and finding a job... well, that was even worse. What if he didn't get along with his coworkers? What if there was frequent conflict? What if he had an anxiety attack at work? He couldn't imagine how horrific that must be.

While walking he spots a tiny plastic bottle thrown to the side of the corner. He kicks it. He nearly feels sorry for it despite the thing being merely an object. It would never be able to experience the complexity of emotions. It didn't feel anything. Didn't cry after getting kicked. Wouldn't be able to register anything because it didn't really exist. Someday he'd be like that too, dead. Not being able to feel anything.

Obviously he couldn't say what was better: being dead or alive. He didn't know what being dead felt like, no one did. But then again, well, no one complained about being dead so surely it couldn't have been so horrible.

He sighs while digging into the pocket of his jacket. Out comes a cigarette and a lighter.

Among many of his poor habits, smoking was one of them. Armin had intended to quit a few months ago, but felt that being away from cigarettes caused his anxiety to worsen. He felt even more rotten than he initially did before he had developed this habit. He'd been doing it for a little over a year and wondered how much damage he'd already done to his body.

Ah well, it really didn't matter now. He already had a death wish in store.

He brings the flame of the lighter to the end of his cigarette and inhales. He usually felt better after doing this, it'd calmed his nerves. Apart from cutting, this was one of the few coping mechanisms he had that genuinely worked. All that nonsense his therapist attempted to teach him in CBT felt like bullshit. He thought about leaving her numerous amounts of times, but didn't want to go through the process of explaining his struggles again with someone new. It felt like too much of a hassle.

Eventually after an hour of walking, he decides to come back home again.

What's left for him on his phone is seven new notifications. That number seemed overwhelming.

However, Armin felt inexplicably tired. He'd have to check his messages again later. For now, going back to sleep seemed ideal.

**Author's Note:**

> I initially wanted to make this story related to schizophrenia, since it is a struggle that's more severe to me than my depression is. But then I realized that I am probably too incapable to produce such a story in a way that would make things readable and easy to understand. As of now I'm currently experimenting with a few writing styles, hopefully this one isn't too horrible... 
> 
> As always, comments and kudos are appreciated. Thank you for reading.


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